


into each life some rain must fall

by bleakmidwinter



Category: Rope (1948)
Genre: All the sex LMAO, Anal Sex, Canon Divergence, Cockblocking, I'm bad at tags, M/M, Oral Sex, Prep School, Rough Sex, Slight CD at the end that's all, kinda angsty, maybe funny idk, phillip and brandon like to fuck, this is mostly sweet and soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 01:39:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17013120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleakmidwinter/pseuds/bleakmidwinter
Summary: aka: five times rupert cadell cockblocked phillip and brandon sort of (and i'm not including one time he didn't for angst purposes lads, hell yeah)





	into each life some rain must fall

**Author's Note:**

> title from ella fitzgerald's "into each life some rain must fall"

Phillip arches back into the small, fairly worn bed Somerville provides them with, cramming his face into his pillow to muffle an abrupt moan.

 

He feels like he's burning from the waist down, and with the hand that isn't in the sheets, he scrambles for purchase in Brandon's hair. 

 

Brandon bobs up and down enthusiastically, lips tight around Phillip between his thighs, swirling his tongue and sucking harshly on random intervals; Phillip bucks his hips up involuntarily with a yelp, and Brandon’s throat muscles contract. 

 

Brandon pulls off, a look of surprise in his eyes. He chuckles then, and crawls up the length of Phillip's body, kissing with wet lips. Phillip shudders and does his best to grip onto his sweat-sheen shoulders as he goes.

 

He feels like he should apologize for choking him and making a ruckus, especially when the housemaster is mostly always on duty this late at night, but Brandon kisses his open mouth. His tongue slips in, not allowing him to say anything. 

 

Brandon is too good of a kisser for his own good, just as he's too good at everything sex-related for his own good, and Phillip is usually too stunned to say much of anything even if he was given the chance.

 

When Brandon pulls away for air he kisses down Phillip's neck, sucking hard at every stopping point; it’s suffocating, Brandon’s breath burns hot against his skin.  Phillip scratches his nails down Brandon's back and whispers his name, nearly shouting it when Brandon wraps a fist around his cock.

 

“Brandon, I'm, I can't-” Phillip says in a rush, sensing the familiar coiling in his gut, but Brandon stops everything and leans up on his haunches, chest heaving. He rests his hands on  Phillip’s hips. Phillip's eyes are watering and he blinks up at him, trying to come back to himself. “What's wrong? Why’d you stop?”

 

“Do you,” Brandon starts and bites his lip. He’s nervous. 

 

Phillip leans up far too fast, feeling blood rush from his head to his shoulders too quick for comfort. Despite the pounding in his head, he leans in to hold Brandon’s face in his hands, stroking over his cheeks gently to calm him, help him understand he can say anything and Phillip would understand.

 

Phillip kisses him softly. Brandon's brow twitches and his jaw clenches. His hands wrap around  Phillip's waist and traveling downwards to grip the curves of his ass. 

 

That's new. 

 

Phillip moans high-pitched, and ignores the smirk that forms on Brandon's face because of it. He bites back a comment about Brandon being unfair. 

 

At least this restores Brandon's confidence.

 

“Do you want to go all the way tonight?” He whispers, and kisses Phillip lazily, making him more pliant to the suggestion. Phillip's eyes flutter shut as he images it; he almost comes right then and there.

 

“Yes,” he responds too quickly, and Brandon scrambles for the KY lube he buried in the bottom drawer of his bureau. He'd only recently invested in it. 

 

“Lie back,” Brandon orders. Phillip plops down instantly, spreading his legs, only slightly self conscious. Brandon is practically grinning as he slathers up his fingers with the gel. 

 

Phillip jerks backwards on the sheets when Brandon runs his fingers over his rim. Phillip wasn't expecting the feeling of it, that's all. 

 

Brandon panics, grabbing at Phillip's face with his oily hands. Phillip face retracts into itself and scrunches up at the slimy feeling. 

 

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

 

“Get off me,” Phillip pushes Brandon's hands away with a laugh and smiles. “I'm fine, it just felt... _ different _ .” 

 

“Good different?” Brandon asks, a hand now returned to Phillip's thigh. 

 

Phillip reaches down to guide Brandon's hand back to where it was between the curves of his ass, and he nods with a soft, “Mhm.” 

 

Without another word, Brandon starts fingering him open like he'd read about in a book or two, and Phillip honestly thought it would hurt more. Either Brandon is extremely talented, or the amount of lube and the pace is just perfectly balanced. Soon enough Brandon has three fingers buried deep inside him and Phillip's writhing, his cock twitching against his stomach, untouched. 

 

Brandon's staring at him as if he's a school assignment, like he'll die if he doesn't get this exactly right. Phillip's too far gone to feel embarrassed, and moans unabashedly.

 

“You're going to get us caught,” Brandon says without any bite to his tone. Phillip's twisting his hips downward, trying to get Brandon to hit that spot that will make his vision go white again.

 

“More,” is all Phillip responds.

 

Brandon looks a little confused, as if he's not sure adding a fourth finger is a good idea. Phillip opens his eyes and is a lucky witness to seeing Brandon stupidly remembering dicks are involved in the equation, and scrambling for the lube to coat his own with.

 

Phillip finds it within himself to laugh, and reaches up to wrap his arms loosely around Brandon's neck while Brandon lines himself up. 

 

When he pushes in, Phillip's grip tightens so hard on Brandon's shoulders, he earns a strained hiss in response.

 

When Brandon bottoms out, Phillip is panting, pitchy, breath hot in the crook of Brandon's neck. He wonders why they only waited until this year to start having sex this way. 

 

Brandon thrusts up once, nearly dislodging Phillip from his lap, but causing them both to gasp and grip tighter onto each other. Phillip grins. 

 

It feels like heaven.

 

With the second thrust, there is a knock on the door. The world seems to stop.

 

Brandon stops everything and watches the door like a hawk. Phillip lets out a quiet whine, sweaty hand slipping off Brandon's shoulders. 

 

“Who is it?” Brandon asks frantically.

 

“Brandon? Phillip? It's Mr. Cadell.”

 

“Fu- _ mmf! _ ” Brandon places a hand over Phillip’s mouth and holds his hip with the other, stilling his squirming. 

 

“Yes, Mr. Cadell?” Brandon asks innocently. He says it evenly and calmly without any hint of what they're up to. Phillip has no idea how, the feeling of Brandon inside of him right now basically has him on the verge of coming.

 

The doorknob rattles and there is a sigh from Mr. Cadell when he realizes it's locked. “I heard some strange noises. Is either one of you hurt?”

 

“No, Mr. Cadell.” Brandon finally pulls his gaze away from the door to glare at Phillip, lowering the hand in front of his mouth, and puts a finger to his lips. Phillip nods, remaining quiet. 

 

“It's after curfew you know.” 

 

“Yes, Mr. Cadell.”

 

“Get to bed now, you too Phillip, yes?” 

 

“Yes, sir.” Phillip's voice breaks embarrassingly and Brandon cracks a smile. Phillip hits him on the arm.

 

There is a sound of loud shoes walking away and Brandon exhales, laughing silently. 

 

“I think that turned me on more,” he admits simply. Phillip chokes.

 

“What, getting caught? By the housemaster no less?” Phillip can't believe him. Of course he would get off on that sort of thing, he never thinks about what would happen if- _ oh _ .”

 

Brandon's lays him down on his back on the bed, and drapes himself over him, the new angle shifts Brandon inside of him. “ _ Oh _ ,” he repeats, out loud.

 

Brandon wraps a hand around Phillip's cock and kisses him deeply to muffle any noises while moving his hips all too fast, all too soon.

 

It really isn't long before Brandon hits that spot inside of him that makes his toes curl so hard they cramp. At that, Phillip comes and spills over Brandon's hand. He'd be embarrassed about coming so soon if Brandon didn't follow immediately after, gasping in Phillip's ear, hips stuttering. 

 

They lay on each other, panting, until it becomes uncomfortable. Brandon slips out and plops down on his back, hand splayed over Phillip's chest. 

 

“Our first time is always going to have Mr. Cadell involved now,” Phillip says, brow tense.

 

Brandon doesn't seem too phased by it, but he can clearly see Phillip's discomfort with the matter, so he curls his hand around his neck, and drags him closer to kiss his cheek.

 

“We can just say our first time was when I went down on you in the attic of the campus church,” Brandon mutters. 

 

Phillip laughs out loud, remembering the day vividly. “And who would we say it to, Brandon?”

 

“Ourselves, maybe Betsy if you like. Although, I always thought she had a crush on you, so I wouldn't want to break her heart.” Brandon is teasing of course. Betsy is the Shaw family cow, a cow who acts like a dog and licks Phillip's face relentlessly if he gets too close. 

 

Phillip flips around, wearing a devilish smirk. Overcome with affection, he starts kissing Brandon everywhere on his cheeks, neck, nose, wherever he can reach. 

 

Brandon blushes and pushes at him weakly. “Hey, calm down, Phillip. I'm not going anywhere.”

 

* * *

 

Phillip is bouncing up gently in Brandon's lap, revelling in the fullness he feels slamming back down. 

 

“Brandon,  _ Brandon _ ,” Phillip mutters, voice high and head craning back. “Brandon.”

 

“I th-think you've said my name fifty times tonight,” Brandon stutters. He tries to play it cool, but Phillip knows he's just as weak as him during these situations. 

 

“I think you need to shut up,” Phillip bites back, head dropping, and shoulders shaking as he levels himself up on Brandon's chest with his hand. “Oh,  _ hell _ .”

 

Brandon smooths his hands over Phillip's sides, moving them up so he can thumb over his nipples. It earns him a soft whimper. 

 

“Brandon, harder, please,” he begs pathetically. Brandon snorts and flips them over with remarkable agility. Phillip throws his legs around those long hips, but before Brandon can start pounding the living daylights out of him, the doorbell rings. 

 

Phillip becomes painfully aware they're in Brandon's farmhouse, and not alone in their own fantasy apartment with free reign of the bedrooms and living rooms. Luckily, they're upstairs and Brandon's mother either remains in the kitchen downstairs or in the basement reading. 

 

The doorbell rings again and Brandon cringes when he hears his mother's voice yell, “I'll get it!” 

 

Phillip would laugh if he wasn't still painfully turned on. He can already sense Brandon starting to lose his own lust, and he debates whining and pulling the puppy dog trick. 

 

“It's Mr. Cadell!” Brandon's mother shouts. Brandon's eyes widen, and he pulls out. Phillip grouches and crosses his arms. 

 

“Don't look at me like that. I can't keep it up with my mother shouting in the background,” Brandon snaps, but Phillip can tell he's more than a little excited about their interruptor. 

 

Brandon tucks himself into his boxers, and glances down at Phillip who is still hard and sweaty on the bed sheets. For a second, Phillip thinks he might drop his shorts and hop back on top of him. He certainly wouldn’t protest. 

 

“Do you need  _ me _ to hand you your clothes?” Brandon deadpans. Phillip rolls his eyes and gets up, storming into the bathroom to take care of himself, mumbling all the while.

 

“Are you coming?!” Brandon's mother shouts and Brandon gives a short laugh.

 

“Yes mother, give us a few minutes!” 

 

* * *

 

“Out of all the stupid, incessant,  _ atrocious _ ways you could have gone about it – ” Brandon growls, and Phillip groans so loud –  almost pained  – it drowns out the rest of what Brandon says.

 

Phillip is draped over Brandon's work desk, gripping the edges so hard his knuckles are white. Brandon is slamming into him from behind like a factory machine, and Phillip can hardly keep up with his enraged rambling, focusing too much on the slap of skin on skin, and sharp nails scratching down his back. 

 

Brandon always keeps his nails manicured.

 

They are using lube of course; Brandon isn't a monster like most people would love to believe. After an argument that had Phillip cornered into a wall, Brandon had shouted at him to turn around, and when Phillip was too slow to respond, he'd flipped him around himself, pressing his face into the chipping paint in the hall of their apartment. 

 

Brandon silently asked if Phillip wanted to, and Phillip had nodded without hesitation.

 

Now he finds himself at the end of Brandon's frustrations, gladly at that. Phillip prefers it rough, and it's only something he'd recently discovered due to the fact they've only just begun resolving arguments by fucking it out,  _ hard _ . 

 

Brandon seems to have forgotten the reason he was angry, just as Phillip had the second his face had been pushed down onto Brandon's work papers. Brandon is grunting, breathy and frantic, hips still pistoning into Phillip without pause. 

 

Phillip’s cock brushes up against the edge of the table every few thrusts, and it sends tremors through his veins. He grips impossibly tighter as Brandon pushes into his prostate at a new angle. 

 

“ _ God _ , Phillip,” he moans.

 

Getting Brandon to call out the name of a deity even during sex is a rarity, so Phillip starts pushing back, rolling his hips enticingly against the thrusts to coax Brandon closer to release.

 

When Brandon slams a fist down beside Phillip's ear on the desk, a sign of his control slowly slipping, the phone across the room starts to ring. 

 

Normally, they'd let it ring and continue until they were both satisfied, but Brandon's mother has been terribly ill as of late, and any call could be a life or death situation. 

 

Phillip slumps down on the desk further in defeat with a strangled whine as Brandon slips his cock out of him and mutters, “Curse it all,” bitterly.

 

Brandon shuffles into his boxers and picks up the phone. “Hello?” His voice is hoarse.

 

“Oh,” Brandon looks to Phillip who is staring back blankly, still slumped over the desk in exhaustion. Brandon seems hesitant. “ _ Rupert _ , it's been a while.”

 

Phillip's eyes widen and he snaps a pencil he'd been loosely fondling, in half. Brandon glares at Phillip but smiles quickly after, staring at nothing, as if Rupert can somehow see him and he feels the need to maintain his social mask. 

 

“No, you didn't interrupt anything. No, I'm not sick thank you for asking. My throat sounds – Oh, I can assure you it was just a minor incident choking on a glass of water, nothing more. Yes, we should catch up some time, I – ”

 

Phillip is now standing, legs still feeling like jelly, and he starts to flip through the files on Brandon's desk all the while making eye contact. He knows Brandon doesn't like his papers handled by anyone other than himself. He hops up on the desk, crossing his legs and gathering the files in his hands.

 

Brandon stutters on the phone watching him, “Yes, I'll c-call you to make a time soon. Yes, f-farewell Rupert.” Brandon hangs up the phone and moves swiftly back over to Phillip who is sitting on the desk casually, completely bare, with an open folder in his hands.

 

“What do you think you're doing?” Brandon asks, eyebrows twitching downwards in a warning.

 

Phillip sets the folder down and reaches a hand down to feel Brandon through his boxers, and smirks at the fact he's still hard.

 

“I was looking through your papers without your permission,” Phillip confesses, splaying his legs open, with innocent eyes staring back into Brandon's. 

 

“Floozie,” Brandon mumbles into Phillip's ear, when Phillip drags him back in by the hair on the nape of his neck, and starts to tug his boxers back down.

 

“Rude,” Phillip mutters back. 

 

It isn't long before Brandon is back inside of him and thrusting like nothing had happened, except now it's languid, and nearly affectionate. 

 

Phillip supposes he should thank Rupert for the interruption. Or maybe blame him.

 

* * *

 

“Not here, Brandon.  _ Please _ ,” Phillip whispers frantically, pushing weakly at his partner's shoulders.

 

“And why not?” Brandon teases as he tugs at the belt around Phillip's waist until it loosens. Quickly, he works his way through Phillip's button and zipper.

 

Phillip is so turned on he's almost willingly to ignore the fact he is sitting on Rupert's office desk with Brandon’s hands digging around in his pants. They've nearly been caught by Rupert multiple times in their lives, but now they're just asking for it.

 

“I'm serious, Brandon,” Phillip says in warning, but presses his cheek into Brandon's forehead with a desperate noise as his long fingers find their target. Brandon is sucking and kissing at his neck with a hand wrapped tightly around his cock, tugging in short jerks that have him squirming.

 

Brandon is unknowingly grinding into one of Phillip's legs where they hang off the desk when he says, “Yeah, then stop me.”

 

“I hate you,” Phillip mumbles and Brandon tightens his fist once, painfully, around his dick and Phillip makes a loud strangled noise, similar to a shout. 

 

Phillip presses his forehead firmly against Brandon's, forcing him to look at him. “Don't  _ test _ me, Brandon.” 

 

“Yeah?” Brandon asks, coy. Still stroking and making Phillip lose track of all his thoughts. He closes the gap between them, and with kissing involved, Phillip's loses all his gall.

 

“Just hurry up,” Phillip whispers and moans softly, biting into Brandon's clothed shoulder to try and muffle it. “Oh  _ my god _ .”

 

“I locked the door and he said he'd be back after lunch duty. Lunch has barely started. Or have you forgotten the Somerville schedule?” Brandon asks and Phillip despises him for forming coherent sentences, let alone one of his  _ know-it-all _ spiels.

 

“Don't spout technicalities to me, you know this is – oh,  _ christ _ , Brandon,  _ faster  _ – it's wrong and were g-going to get caught,” Phillip stammers. His eyes are closed and he's focusing solely on the friction around his groin and the feeling of Brandon's other hand running through his hair and gently rubbing at his scalp. 

 

“If Rupert were to walk in and see you now,” Brandon declares wrly with a chuckle, and Phillip nearly spits at him for throwing off his arousal.

 

“That's repulsive.”

 

The doorknob jiggles and there is a confused grumble from outside as well as the added noise of keys jangling. Phillip and Brandon don't have time to shout “I told you so” or more “I hate you” at each other, so Brandon tucks Phillip in and straightens out his hair and when they're both standing with hearts beating out of their chests, Rupert walks in with a tired smile. 

 

After their meeting and dealing with the issue regarding their individual need for a letter of recommendation, they walk to Brandon's car and during the uncomfortably silent drive home, Phillip mutters, “You're lucky these pants are forgiving.”

 

* * *

 

“His body’s over there Phillip, limp and mangled in that chest,” Brandon says breathless, voice cracking. The touch of his lips is scalding in the crook of Phillip’s neck. Phillip’s head is so fuzzy, and he’s so full on alcohol that Brandon’s words sound like they are miles away.

 

All he knows is the feeling of Brandon’s hand on his groin, rubbing him violently, the same hands he’d used less than two hours ago to hold David up while Phillip, he,  _ he _ _ – _

 

“Brandon,  _ please _ ,” Phillip whines, vision blurry. Brandon ignores him, leaning over him, scanning his body wildly like a starving animal who’d just been tossed a slab of meat. Even through his incoherency, Phillip leans up to kiss Brandon sloppily, grinding pathetically up against him. Everything in his head is scrambled and  _ wrong _ . He feels pleasure and nausea swirling together in a sick mixture all throughout his body

 

He allows Brandon to continue unraveling him, just as he allows Brandon to do  _ anything _ .

 

Brandon bites his neck and slithers an arm up so he can curl his hand around Phillip’s throat. “How does it feel? How do you think  _ David _ felt? Terrified?” Brandon tightens his grip and Phillip’s cock throbs and jerks desperately in the tight confines of his pants. “Does it feel good? Maybe he enjoyed it,  _ you _ seem to be,” Brandon rambles, gaze piercing and unrelenting. His own arousal makes itself known somewhere around Phillip's thigh, hot and heavy and terrifying.

 

Phillip’s eyes are fluttering shut, and he’s taking in small, labored, breaths, as much as he can. His hips are jerking on their own, as Brandon's grip tightens still.

 

And then he lets go.

 

Brandon is suddenly fumbling with Phillip’s shirt, his hands trembling violently as he unbuttons everything, hands sliding over skin, underneath hems and folds, and Phillip is struggling to catch his breath still, even without the hand around his throat. There is a crazed, lustful look in Brandon's eyes. The same look he had when he was describing how it felt to murder David, when he'd asked Phillip the same question he’d asked him in the dining room. 

 

“Brandon, we,  _ we _ almost got caught,” he sobs as Brandon finds what he’s looking for, rubbing at the bulge in his underwear. “You almost got u-us caught.”

 

Brandon snorts, gaze sour, and leans down, tugging Phillip’s undergarments with him in one swipe. “No, Phillip, I believe that was you.” He takes Phillip into his mouth unceremoniously and Phillip cries out, as if no one were around. There isn't, but even in an empty apartment, Phillip usually tones himself down. With the alcohol and the stress, he’s letting go completely. His back arches so high he feels it in his spine, and he scrambles frantically at the carpet with his nails, trying to grip  _ something _ when Brandon’s head bobs all the way down. 

 

“ _ Jesus _ , Brandon,  _ fuck! _ ” Phillip shouts, and lifts his legs to curl around Brandon’s neck. When he’s on the edge of coming undone, the phone buzzes. Brandon stops cold, and Phillip shakes, fear returning to his every nerve. 

 

Brandon slowly stands and smoothes down his hair with trembling hands before picking up the phone.

 

“R-Rupert?” he asks, and Phillip stares up at him, naked and panting on the floor, shaking his head desperately. “A cigarette case,” Brandon continues. Phillip pleads, begs with his eyes. 

 

Brandon swallows and says with momentary hesitation, “Yes, of course you can come look for it.”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry i'm literally so fucking bad at writing smut, this is awful, but horny reigns supreme so. just take this. the tag needed more horny, ok? leave me be.


End file.
